If I Could Turn Back Time
by jay1013
Summary: Draco gets attacked by Death Eaters and loses his memory. It's up to Hermione to help him regain it. But what happens when she ends up falling for the new Draco? DMHG
1. What's Going On?

I couldn't help but feel guilty. Sure, he was the selfish git who had tormented me for being born to muggle parents and he was partially responsible for Dumbledore's death and it had been he who had landed Harry and Ron in Azkaban for a couple of months, but he had proven himself to be worthy of our trust. Not only had he led us right to Voldemort's lair, but he had found the last horcrux as well. Still, he was a Slytherin, and I therefore didn't trust him.

I had seen the group of Death Eaters approaching him, but my main concern at the moment had been getting my friends out of there safe and sound. How horrible it would have been for me, the responsible and dependable Hermione Granger, Head Girl at Hogwarts and now one of the Ministry's top Aurors, to have to explain to the Weasleys, who had taken Harry and myself on as honorary children, why their children were either dead or in intensive care at St. Mungo's. I could have warned him, but I didn't think I could afford to take the time to do so. I had been in the middle of defending Ginny from Bellatrix Lestrange and warning him would have distracted me, possibly leading to Ginny or me sustaining an injury. I'm not trying to justify what happened; I just want to get all of the facts out first.

Anyway, so I had time to warn him, but I didn't. Next thing I know, he was crouched on the ground, bleeding and moaning in pain. Ron and Harry tried to get him up, while I called for help. That's when he collapsed. Just fell right onto the ground, I swear. And I rarely ever swear. Then Harry had suggested one of us get him to St. Mungo's while the others stayed to fight off the rest of Death Eaters. The safest thing to have done would have been to send Ginny because she had no training whatsoever on how to duel with Death Eaters nor how to defend herself against advanced Dark Magic unless you counted her seven years at Hogwarts and the private lessons she had received from Harry, which I don't. Theory and practicing in school with classmates who are learning alongside you aren't the same as dueling in the real world. But Harry wanted to keep her close so he could look after her. He didn't want her to get hurt, the obvious reason being because he loved her. That dwindled our options down to Ron and me.

I still can't remember exactly how I ended up being chosen to bring Draco Malfoy into the hospital, but I do recall Ron and I playing Rock, Paper, Scissors and us arguing after I'd lost to him twice in a row. I know what you're thinking: how selfish of them not to care that one of their own comrades could have been dying. It's not that I didn't care. It's just that I surely didn't want to be the one to have to spend the night in the hospital with _Draco Malfoy_ of all people! He made my life a living hell while I was at Hogwarts. He's one of the only two people who have ever made me cry (the other being Ron, the current love of my life) and I'm pretty sure he's the only person I've ever smacked or punched or whatever you'd call that hit I gave him when we were in our third year. He hates me and I hate him. The epitome of animosity. It would have been worse if I had liked him and he had hated me, which I _don't_. Our arrangement works out just fine. Or at least it had until today.

So there I was, seated beside Draco Malfoy's death bed, praying that if he dies I won't have to be the one to explain to his friends (if he had any) or family (the ones that weren't in Azkaban as of yet) what had happened to him. I had been waiting for what felt like days. I'd been so bored, I'd resorted to counting how many patients walked past his room and trying to guess what was wrong with them. In just one day, I had seen Pansy Parkinson who apparently had put her hand inside an alligator's mouth in an attempt to retrieve her wand (how it got in there in the first place still remains a mystery), Blaise Zabini who had attempted to cast a charm to keep him and his girlfriend warm while staying in Siberia and had accidentally set himself on fire, and even Fred and George who were here so often I gave up trying to guess what potion had exploded on them now. Needless to say, I needed some entertainment. If I had to sit there for another hour, watching Malfoy snore, I swear to Merlin I was going to stab someone.

"Excuse me," a voice said. I looked up to see if Malfoy had spoken, signifying that he was all right and that I could leave already. But, alas, it was only Mrs. Longbottom, Neville's grandmother.

"Yes?" I said trying to hide my disappointment.

"You went to school with my Neville, didn't you?" I nodded slowly. "Lovely boy, isn't he? Or man, I should say. God, I'm still not used to him being a man. He just grew up so fast. One minute I was changing his diapers and the next he was graduating from that school. He's made me so proud. So very proud." She stopped to dab her tears away with a handkerchief. Merlin, could she get to the point already? I get it, it's a miracle the boy ever grew, as clumsy as he is. I'm was in no the mood to discuss what kind of _man_ Neville Longbottom had become. All I cared about at the moment was that the man lying beside me would either wake up or die already so I can go back and help defeat Voldemort. That must sound really awful, but I didn't care. My hand itched and I felt like dueling some Death Eaters, not watching someone _die._

"I know I should let you get back to worrying over your fiancé. You two make such a lovely couple by the way," Mrs. Longbottom said as she winked at me. For a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about. Ron wasn't anywhere in sight and how would she know about our engagement anyway? I looked down at the ring he had gotten me and then realized I was sitting next to Draco Malfoy. Surely she couldn't think that...?

"Oh no. He's not-," I started to say. But she shook her head and cut me off.

"I know, dear. He'll be alright. I didn't mean to worry you so. I was just going to ask you if this is my grandson. I'm not wearing my glasses, so I can't make out much of his features. It looks like him," she said as she pointed to another hospital bed. I blinked once, then twice. Surely the old woman wasn't so senile that now she had to resort to asking strangers whether or not the body lying on the bed was that of her own _grandson's_. I rolled my eyes and walked over. I had no idea what had put me in such a sour mood, but it didn't seem to want to go away any time soon. Well, actually that's not true. I knew exactly what had put me in such a bad mood: my friends got to fight while I sat at the sidelines, not even getting to watch the outcome.

I stood next to Mrs. Longbottom and nodded that it was in fact Neville. God only knew what he was in for and I did feel a little sorry for him. The poor boy was so clumsy, it was no wonder he was always getting into some sort of accident. Mrs. Longbottom talked for a few minutes and I remained there listening to stories of Neville's other catastrophes. I felt so terrible for my impatience with her earlier that I engaged her in a few stories from our Hogwarts days. I awed her with Neville's bravery during our fifth year when we escaped from a skirmish with Voldemort at the Ministry's Department of Mysteries and I shocked her by telling her how Neville had stood up to a group of Death Eaters who had broken into our school our seventh year. Mrs. Longbottom listened on, stopping me every so often to press for details. I had made her grandson out to be a hero, which I suppose we all are now. Courage makes a hero and it takes a lot of courage to go into battle knowing there was a good chance you wouldn't return.

It was then I heard a small groan. I looked over toward Malfoy's bed and saw his hand move. I excused myself and walked over to his bed. He opened both of his eyes and stared right into my eyes.

"Are you all right? Can you hear me? Do I need to get the doctor?" I asked as I fluffed his pillow. I suddenly felt nervous and giddy. He was alive and he seemed to be well. Maybe he could come back with me to fight some more Death Eaters...It was then I noticed his blank stare. He just kept looking up at me as if this were the first time we had met. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. I gave a small sigh. Looks like he wouldn't be returning to fight after all...

"Yes, yes, and perhaps," he finally responded after a moment. "But before you get the doctor, can you tell me what happened? Why I am here? And where is here? And who I am, while you're at it."

"Certainly. You were attacked by a group of Death Eaters while we were trying to destroy Voldemort once and for all. We found you bleeding on the ground and so I, er, _volunteered _to bring you to the hospital. St. Mungo's to be exact. And-," I stopped myself. Did he ask who he was? My mouth hung open for a moment. Then I jumped up running around for the doctor. "Dr. Stevens! Dr. Stevens!" I called out as I ran into the hall. The doctor quickly came into the room to examine Malfoy.

"What happened?" he demanded. I began to ramble, not sure of what to do or say next.

"He can't remember who he is! He can't remember anything! He needs a potion or a charm or something. Do _something!_" Dr. Stevens merely rose an eyebrow and turned towards Malfoy.

"Let's try this again. What happened?" Malfoy shrugged as he kept watching me out of the corner of his eye. Or at least I thought he was.

"I just woke up and I can't remember anything. I asked her to tell me where I was, why I was here, and who I was and she just started...doing that," he said as he pointed at me. I had managed to calm down. This can be solved. We are in a magical hospital with thousands of well trained healers and physicians on hand. One of them is bound to know how to fix whatever's wrong. Right?

"Hmm, I see." Dr. Stevens noted something on Malfoy's chart without revealing anything else. What? What does he see? _I _don't see anything! "Unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy, you were hit with some high level Inuiria, which is a Dark potion for which there in no known cure. The good news is, some people manage a full recovery of their memory all on their own."

"Really? How?" I asked. I'm always curious about new spells and potions. In fact, more often than not, I can be found mixing potions at the Ministry then training for battle. Some, including myself, would argue learning to make potions is a form of training.

"By going on with their daily routines. He should keep doing everything he would normally do such as going to work, running errands, visiting friends. Since routines are something people do every day of their lives, people who suffer from full blown amnesia are more likely to remember the routines than any thing else," Dr. Stevens said as he turned to look at me. I looked past him at Malfoy for a second. He seemed really confused and if I were in his position, I would be as well. How is he supposed to return to his daily routines if he couldn't even remember them? "Now, since Mr. Malfoy has no family, we're going to have to find him someone to help him figure out his identity." We? _We_? What's this_ we_ business? I hope he's not including me in that _we_ because I need to get back to the war. I'm needed on the battlefield! And so's Malfoy for that matter. I was just about to tell Dr. Stevens this when I heard Mrs. Longbottom interrupt from across the room.

"Oh, she could do it," she said. _What did she just say?_ "They're engaged you know," Mrs. Longbottom added with a wink. I wanted to vomit. I could literally feel the tuna sandwich I had earlier coming back up my esophagus. It was the burning sensation that caused me not to contradict her. After all, how could I possibly keep my lunch down _and_ speak at the same time?

"Splendid! I'll be right back with the paper work you'll need to fill out." Dr. Stevens quickly retreated from the room. I needed to sit down. Malfoy and I engaged? And now I have to take care of him? What Ron would say? He'd probably kill Malfoy and then give me a tongue lashing as well. These next few months were bound to be difficult. Especially if I had to spend them with Malfoy.

"Engaged, eh?" Malfoy asked. And that's when I saw it. His infamous smirk. Even when he couldn't remember who he was, he could still remember his smirk. God, I wanted to smack him so badly. But I restrained myself. I didn't want to get arrested for something as silly as slapping Malfoy. But I could set the record straight.

"Let's get one thing straight." I sat back down in the chair beside him and turned to face him. "We are not engaged. I repeat, _we are not engaged_!" Malfoy just sat there, nodding like a bobble head.

"Then what's that ring on your finger for?" he asked incredulously. I held out my hand for him.

"I _am_ engaged. But not to you," I quickly added. "I'm engaged to someone you despise. Actually, I think he and I are the top two people you despise. Scratch that. Harry's the first, I'm the second. My fiancé, Ron, is the third." Again, he just nodded.

"And why do I hate you all, exactly?" he asked after a minute or two of silence. I shrugged.

"Harry you hate because he was more popular than you at Hogwarts, that's the school we all went to together for seven years, even though you had more money than him. You hate Ron because he's friends with Harry. And you hate me because I'm friends with them and because I'm of muggle descent," I replied coolly as I drummed my fingers on the dresser beside my chair. This stroll down memory lane certainly was not my idea of fun.

"And what's wrong with that?" he asked. I stared at him.

"What's wrong with what?" I asked.

"With being of muggle descent," he asked as he sat up. I was stunned at his words. Had Draco Malfoy seriously just asked me that question? Pinch me, I must be dreaming. Then again, why would I be dreaming of Malfoy?

"Well, you see a muggle is person who doesn't have magic. And both of my parents are muggles yet I am a witch," I explained. That had to be it. He didn't remember what a muggle was.

"I know what the word means. I can remember that much. I meant, what's wrong with having muggles for parents?" I was too shocked to speak. On second thought, maybe these next few months wouldn't be so bad after all. I could teach him to become a decent human being, you know, one who didn't want to enslave elves and wasn't prejudice against those he considered to be of tainted blood.

"I...I don't know. You've just always hated me for that," I finally managed to say.

"That's stupid reason to hate someone. It's not your fault your parents are what they are," he said. Before I could open my mouth to agree, Dr. Stevens walked in. He handed me some release forms to sign and handed Malfoy the clothes he had been wearing when I brought him in, though they were in shreds now.

"Perhaps Ms...," Dr. Stevens said looking at me.

"Granger," I supplied.

"Yes. Maybe Ms. Granger could stop by your flat and pick up some new clothes for you," Dr. Stevens continued. I arched a brow as I pulled out my wand.

"Reparo," I said and the clothes were instantly stitched back together.

"That also works," Dr. Stevens said. I stepped into the hallway to wait for Malfoy while he changed and spoke with Dr. Stevens. I tried to sit patiently, but I was too worried about the others. What if they were hurt? What if Malfoy had been wrong about Voldemort's whereabouts? What if he had led them into a trap? I began to pace up and down the hallway. On my way back down the third time, I tripped and fell flat on my face.

"Ow," I muttered as Malfoy stood before me laughing. That stupid git. He tripped me! I slapped him on his arm, careful not to hit a bruise.

"Ouch," he mocked. "That hurt _so_ much," he smirked.

"How is it that even without your memory you still manage to be an arrogant prat?" I wondered out loud.

"Arrogant prat? I have done nothing to earn such a title. Yet," he added with a grin. I stopped dead in my tracks. Did Draco Malfoy just grin at me? I looked behind me to check if Pansy Parkinson hadn't somehow managed to get the alligator off of her already and was standing behind me, mocking my every move. But she wasn't. In fact, there was no one standing there. Just me. "What? What's wrong?" I shook my head.

"Nothing, it's just that you've...nothing," I said more definitively.

"What? Tell me. I'm supposed to do what I normally do, right?" I nodded. "And besides, if we're going to be spending so much time with each other, you might as well clear the air now." I slowly nodded until I realized what he had just said.

"What do you mean, 'so much time together'?" He merely shrugged and muttered something about Dr. Stevens saying I'd have to be with him nearly 24/7 until he had fully recovered.

"_What?_!" I shrieked. He covered my mouth and shushed me as passerbys stared after us. "What do you mean, 24/7? I have a life, you know. What will Ron think if he finds out I have to move in with you? What will Harry say? What will by parents say? And the neighbors! What will they make of all of this? I can just hear the gossip mill turning now!"

"Calm down. What we need right now is a nice plate of food and a nap. You're probably just cranky from staying up all night," Malfoy commented as he tugged me towards the hospital exit.

"All night?" I asked. Malfoy nodded slowly. "I did stay there all night, didn't I? All right, will do it your way," I said as I grabbed onto his hand and concentrated on his flat.

"Wait! What are you doing?" he asked. Oh, that's right. I have to explain everything to him now.

"I'm going to apparate us to your flat." I took his arm again, but he held it back.

"Why not yours?" he said. I rolled my eyes.

"Because you have your own flat while I share a house with Ginny and Luna." Exasparated, I took his arm again. He snatched it back. "For Merlin's sake, what is it _now_?" I was really getting annoyed.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see your reaction," he smirked. Maybe I was wrong. Draco Malfoy minus memory still left you with a total asshole. These next few months were going to be a doozy.


	2. All Mixed Up

**I decided to keep this story going, albeit nearly two years after I started it. I've just started working on this one, but since I'm out of school, I should be updating it fairly regularly. Anyway, you guys know the drill. Reviews are my inspiration. So read, enjoy, and leave a review!**

"And just how bloody long will _that_ take?" Ron yelled as he paced up and down Draco's living room. I should have known he'd react this way. What possessed me to tell him so soon? I should have waited for a better time. Like after Malfoy had recovered and I was out of his house. I looked over at the cause of Ron's temper, Draco Malfoy. He looked up at Ron in awe, as if he hadn't known it was possible for a person to become so angry. Meanwhile, I sat very still. I knew I had to act calm. If I yelled, it would only make Ron angrier and possibly embarrass him in front of Malfoy which would in turn make him even angrier with me. How can I get him to calm down? How can I make him see things rationally?

"I don't know, Ron. The doctor says it could take days, weeks, months, even years-," I started to say.

"Years? Years!" he yells as he stops in front of Malfoy. "Do you hear that? Years!" He turns back to look at me. "We're getting married in less than _one_ year. What's going to happen then, hmm? And what if he never regains his memory? You can't exactly live here forever, you know." He was right about that. And truthfully, I have no idea what would happen if I had to spend more than a day alone with Malfoy. I don't care how much he's changed, I still don't trust him. And as I had already discovered, Draco Malfoy was still Draco Malfoy regardless of the condition of his memory. But, of course, I couldn't tell Ron any of that. It would only further fuel his anger, not to mention confirm his suspicions that Malfoy hasn't changed a bit.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to stay here forever. Just until the doctor or I can come up with a better way for Malfoy to regain his memory." I was grateful he didn't ask me to name any better ideas on the spot because I really didn't have any. All I could do was hope Malfoy regained his memory sooner rather than later.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but would I be this Malfoy?" Malfoy asked from the other side of the couch I was sitting on. I turned to look at him and remembered I never did tell him what his name was.

"See! You see, Hermione! He can't even remember his own _name_. This is hopeless. He'll _never _regain his memory," Ron sputtered. Malfoy looked disappointed, as if his last thread of hope had just been cut. I glared over at Ron.

"Never say never. Nothing's impossible. And you're not helping. Dr. Stevens says he could just wake up one morning with his memory fully intact. It could happen," I said as calmly as I could. I didn't want to upset Ron anymore than he already was. Ron sighed. He was probably reconsidering the situation.

"Do you _have_ to stay with him? I don't see a need for you to spend your nights with him. You could help him during the day and sleep at your own house at night," Ron nearly pleaded. And just what does that mean? Is he worried I'll do something with Malfoy? He should know me better than that.

"Nothing will happen, Ron. You need to learn to trust me." I tried to say it sternly, but I was much too worried to pull off the tone. If Ron didn't trust me, this marriage would never work. Which would be horrible for me because I've never dated anyone else, unless you count Krum. I'd be alone again. I've gotten so used to being with Ron that just the thought of being single and alone terrified me. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

"I do trust you, Hermione," he added quickly. "It's _him_ I don't trust." Ron turned to sneer at Malfoy, but Malfoy was too busy examining the photographs on his mantle to notice. I tried my best to suppress my smile. Ron _does_ trust me. What was I so worried about? Of course we were going to get married and (hopefully) Malfoy would be out of the picture before that glorious day arrived.

"I can take care of myself. I graduated as Head Girl from Hogwarts, I'm one of the best Aurors working for the Ministry, _and_ I can throw a couple of punches. If necessary," I counted on my fingers. Ron nodded slowly. I had almost convinced him. Now I just needed to think of a good argument that would seal the deal. "And besides...Shouldn't you be more worried about Harry and Ginny? You left them virtually alone in a cave crawling with Death Eaters and Dementors." By the look on his face, I could tell he was beginning to see the light. Or, at least, he was thinking as rationally as a Weasley could with their stubborn nature hampering them.

"You're right. I'll be back tomorrow. To see how you're doing," he added as he leaned in to kiss me. I stopped him. "What's wrong?" I took in a long breath and braced myself before I spoke.

"Come back when the war is finished," I said slowly. Ron's jaw dropped to the floor. It had pained me to admit I would be staying out of the final battles. I wouldn't get to see Voldemort finally being obliterated or Ginny proving herself worthy of being an auror. I'd miss all of the best action because I had to babysit Malfoy. But Ron shouldn't have to miss out on any of that on my account. "The others need you. What if there's an ambush while you're here? They need you more than I do. There's no sense in both of us staying here. Our group is short-handed to begin with. And what happens if you're caught while moving back and forth from here to the cave? It's too risky." He began to protest, but immediately quieted down as if he were understanding the reasoning behind my request. He nodded slowly and rested his forehead against mine.

"I'll miss you," he whispered before he lightly brushed his lips over mine. I gave him a small smile.

"Just take care of yourself. Make sure you come back to me in one piece. I can't afford to take care of two patients, now, can I?" I was trying to lighten the mood, but it really didn't work.

"You know I love you, Hermione," he said softly.

"And I you," I responded. I could feel tears burning in the back of my eyes, but refused to let them roll down. He'd come back. Safe and sound. I repeated that to myself over and over again as I hugged and kissed him goodbye. When I turned from the door, I came face to face with Malfoy.

"Bravo," he clapped. "Such a _touching_ performance. My eyes are still glistening. Positively _glistening_," he said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes.

"You're sure acting like you normally do," I muttered.

"Really?" he said as he led the way back into his living room. I nodded. "Well, I was hopping you could tell me some things about myself. Like _my name_ perhaps?"

"Oh, right. I forgot about that. Your name's Draco Malfoy. Anything else you'd like to know? I'm probably not the best person to ask, considering no one in their right minds would call us friends." I mumbled as I looked at my watch. It was getting pretty late and I was tired from all of the fighting I had done that day. Both physically and verbally.

"Are we the same age?" I nodded. At least, I think we are... "And how old are you?" I furrowed my brows at the phrasing of his question.

"That's an interesting way to ask for your age. But we're nineteen," I commented.

"You're only nineteen years old and you're already getting married?" He seemed shocked, as if he had just realized I was getting married.

"Yes. What's wrong with that?" Ron and I had gotten many unwanted comments when we announced our engagement. Mostly from my parents who thought we were far too young to even consider marriage. They just don't understand young love.

"Nothing, I suppose. Except, don't you want to _do_ things before you get married?" I looked over at him, puzzled by his statement. He tried to rephrase it. "Don't you want to experience new things before you get married?" I thought this over for a moment before shaking my head.

"I've already experienced enough to last me a lifetime," I said with a laugh. "Hogwarts, Voldemort, the Ministry...I'm ready to settle down and live a normal life."

He shook his head."That's not the type of experiences I was referring to."

"Then what were you talking about?" He had me thoroughly confused. What other life experiences _were_ there?

"Things you can't do when you're married. Like...staying out all night, partying with your friends. Or dating random strangers you meet at clubs."

"I'm not a party girl. I don't like doing those things." I very nearly snorted, but then I remembered his memory had been wiped. He couldn't recall what I was like at all and didn't realize how out of character it would have been for me to go club hopping. For a small fraction of a second, I actually felt some sympathy for him and his condition. But that emotion was quickly suppressed as I recalled every moment he had shown me malice.

"I bet you've never even done any of those things. How would you know if you liked doing them if you've never tried them?"

"I've never jumped off a bridge either, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like doing that anymore than I would like to get drunk," I countered. He shrugged.

"You never know. A trip down a bridge might actually work miracles for you," he smirked. Oh, if he wasn't injured I would...I closed my eyes and counted to ten before opening them again. I was calm and ready with a witty retort before he interrupted my train of thought by saying, "He's probably the only guy you've been with, too." My jaw dropped to the floor as he grinned over at me. "I guess I hit the mark, eh?" I tried to regain my composure as I followed him into the kitchen.

"So this is my kitchen. I didn't expect it to be so...green," he remarked as he examined the dark green walls. I was so angry with him, I didn't even notice what the room looked like. But it did register my mind that we were in the kitchen and I knew I had to leave the room before I found a sharp utensil I could stab him with. Luckily, my vocal cords had regained the ability to make sound and rational Hermione had returned. I couldn't stab him, but I could yell at him.

"How _dare_ you make such...such...assumptions! Not that it's any of your business whom I've been intimate with, but what if he is the only guy I've been with?"

"I wasn't trying to offend you. I'm sure you're a lovely girl and all and that there are probably dozens of other guys who have tried to get your attention, but that's just it. You've only been with this one guy and he's probably only been with you. What happens when you both get bored?" he drawled. Did he just say I was lovely? I filed that away somewhere in the back of my head to mull over later as my anger slowly crept over my skin, consuming me in a way and with a passion I hadn't experienced in years.

"Bored? We've known each other since we were eleven! If we were bored with each other, we wouldn't be _engaged_."

"Yes, but have you been _dating_ him since you were eleven?" Just what was he getting at?

"No," I growled. He just gave me a sad smile and he shook his head. "What? What is it?"

"I don't think you want to hear what I am thinking." He exited the kitchen and decided to climb the stairs.

"Of course I do. Tell me." He suddenly stopped and turned around. I hadn't realized he had stopped so my head collided with his chest. "Ow!" For a spoiled git, he sure did have a well defined abdomen. Not that I was trying to feel his chest, it's just that I had to hold on to something so I wouldn't fall down the stairs and his chest just happened to be conveniently there.

"Do you really want to know?" I nodded slowly as I rubbed my aching head. "It will wear off," he said simply. I stared at him, expecting for him to elaborate, but of course he just continued on up the stairs as if I weren't right behind him.

"What will wear off?" I asked when I reached the top of the stairs. He was opening doors, probably looking for his room.

"Limmerance."Again, I expected him to expand, but he just continued opening doors.

"And what would that be?" I consider myself to be a clever witch, but I have to admit, I had never heard of the word until then.

"Limmerance is the initial stage of a relationship-," he began.

"Initial stage? We've been dating for two years!" I interrupted.

"Where the couple sees each other through rose-tinted glasses," he finished. I blinked at him.

"Are you delusional? Did you see how angry Ron got when I told him I had to stay here with you? And he can get even angrier than that," I nodded.

"Are you trying to tell me his face can grow an even brighter shade of red? By Merlin, you're marrying a tomato!" I gave him a bland look as I tried my best not to be amused.

"The point is, I know he's not perfect."

"I didn't say you thought he was perfect. I said you're seeing him through rose-tinted glasses."

"What's the difference?" He gave an exasperated sigh, as if he had been trying to explain something to a small child.

"Have you ever read the book _The Great Gatsby_?" I gave a small nod. "Do you remember how Gatsby loved Daisy even after she married Tom? Daisy was his first love and he thought he loved her when he was only in the limmerance stage of their relationship. He had these expectations of what being with Daisy would be like and he magnified every one of Daisy's good qualitites so that they overshadowed the negatives ones. That's why their relationship couldn't work out in the end; Gatsby was in love with the image he had drawn up of Daisy, not Daisy herself." I stood there, watching him with awe.

"How did you know all of that?" I finally managed to say. He had remembered the book better than I could, and I hadn't recently had my memory erased.

"I...I don't really know. It had been an idea in my head since you said you were nineteen. I'm not really sure how it happened..." He sounded confused as just stood there for a moment. He was probably trying to see if he could remember anything else.

"Don't force yourself to remember," I cautioned. I didn't want him to get a headache and faint on me. "Why don't we eat something while I tell you more about yourself?" He shrugged but followed me back downstair nonetheless.

"What happened to my family?" he asked as I pulled out my wand to prepare us some omelettes.

"Well, you're an only child. You're father..." I stopped myself. I couldn't possibly tell him what I thought about his father. "Well, let's just say he isn't well-liked."

"Why?" Damn. I was afraid he'd ask me that.

"He believes pure-bloods are superior to half-bloods. As did your mother." I wanted to end the conversation right there, but of course, Malfoy had other ideas.

"Where are they now?" I remained silent for a moment. How could I tell him his father was being imprisoned for helping Voldemort kill innocent witches and wizards?

"You're father was arrested and is currently serving a life sentence at Azkaban." There. Now as long as he doesn't ask me why his father was arrested-

"What did he do?" I pulled my wand out and muttered a quick charm to start making omelettes. I sat down and just watched the food being prepared. I didn't speak for a while because I wasn't sure how to phrase what happened. Should I just lay it on him, tell him what a bastard his father was? Or should I try to sugar coat things, at least just for now? Talk about a catch-22. If I lie to him now, things will be worse later. But if I tell him the truth, I'll have to deal with so many questions and problems right now. I sighed and reminded myself I was placed in Gryffindor House because of my courage. Avoiding the situation for as long as possible was a sign of cowardice.

"There's this organization founded by Voldemort. They, er, perform dark, forbidden spells and believe in pureblood supremacy," I started.

"The Death Eaters. My father was a Death Eater," he muttered as he stood up and walked over to the stove.

"Do you remember?" I asked eagerly. If he remembered, then I wouldn't have to say the rest. But he shook his head and turned to face me again. He merely stared a me a moment before motioning for me to continue.

"Yes, well, the Death Eaters engage in a great number of illegal activities. I'm not going to go into what their organization does as a whole, but your father, specifically, worked rather closely with Voldemort himself. He attacked Harry, Ron, myself, and a few others at the Ministry of Magic during our fifth year at Hogwarts. Bellatrix Lestrange, your aunt on your mother's side, killed Harry's Godfather, Sirius Black. Aurors quickly arrived on the scene to help us and to arrest the Death Eaters on the premises. Lestrange was lucky and managed to escape, but your father did not. He was arrested immediately and has spent the past four years in Azkaban. Your mother was left alone to care for you. Some people say she went insane from being left alone for the first time in her life. Others say..." I stopped when I realized I was about to say Death Eaters tortured her.

"Voldemort killed her, didn't he?" I didn't do anything for a minute, just sat there as I watched as a million different emotions passed across his face. Anger followed closely by sadness followed by hurt followed by loneliness. But soon, his face became impassive, as if I had never told him anything. "You don't trust me. Why?" I was taken aback by the question.

"Why? Do you mean aside from the fact that you teased me as a child?" I scoffed. He shook his head.

"No, that would only make you dislike me. But you don't _trust _me."

"How can you trust someone you don't like?" I wondered aloud. Malfoy shrugged.

"I'm not really sure if I like your boyfriend, but I know I can trust him. And I get the idea we didn't really like each other, but I can trust you."

"How the bloody hell do you know that?" If he seriously trusts every stranger he meets, then he was going to be in some serious trouble by the end of the week because as of right now everyone (including himself) was a stranger to him.

"You brought me to the hospital, didn't you? You just don't seem like the kind of people that would leave a person to die," he responded simply.

"Really?" I wasn't happy about the compliment, just amused. I mean, I've gotten way better compliments before, but never stated so matter-of-factly.

"Yes, really. And I'm growing sick of this house. Why did I buy a house anyway? Houses are for families, not bachelors. Unless I'm secretly married. Am I secretly married?" I rolled my eyes. "What? It could happen."

"If you were secretly married, I'd be the last person on the face of the planet to know. That and it wouldn't be a secret anymore, now would it?"

"True. But things have a way of leaking out into the public. Was I dating anyone at least?" I shook my head.

"No one I know of at least. And houses aren't just for families. Houses are homes, a place people feel comfortable living in. I have to applaud you for choosing this house. It looks magnificent inside and out. I wonder who you hired to decorate for you. Maybe they could do my house after Ron and I get married."

"I have the feeling I decorated the place myself and again I say, aren't you a little young to be getting married?"

"Really? You decorated this all on your own?" I ignored his question..

"Yes. Now answer my question." Damn. This guy just doesn't give up. Strange. During our years at Hogwarts, he always gave up when things got sticky...Quick, Hermione. Think of a way to dance out of this!

"No, I'm not young. Back in the 18th and 19th centuries, women used to get married at ages younger than mine." Weak, I know. But it was all I could think of on the spot.

"Interesting. I never pegged you as the traditional type. Then again, I never would have considered Ron your type either."

"Oh? And what is my type?" I was a little miffed. Everyone else agrees that Ron and I are perfect for each other. So why doesn't he think so?

"How should I know? I can't even remember what my own mother looks like. You can't possibly expect me to remember what your taste in men was prior to Ron." And with that said he stood up to add cheese and ham to one of the omelettes

"Then how do you know he's not my type?" I demanded. "What a dumb statement. First you say Ron's not my type then you say you don't know what my type is. Then how do you know Ron couldn't be my type without knowing what my actual type is?"

"Wow. That's a mouthful. But I think I follow your pattern of thinking. And actually, my statement is logical. I don't know your exact type; I just know that whatever it is, he didn't seem like the type of guy to fit the bill."

"And why not?" I don't know why I let him get to me. Maybe it was because his comments were making me doubt my love for Ron or maybe I had already began to doubt my love for Ron. Cold feet is very normal, I reassured myself. Especially when you consider how young we are. Young people are rarely prepared for the hardships of marriage, but Ron and I are. I mean, we're both really mature for our age. Then I thought back to last week when Ron had found it amusing to dye all of Ginny's undergarments pink and then hang them outside of Harry's house for all the neighbors to see. Okay, let me correct myself then. _I'm_ very mature for my age.

"He seems a little too immature for you," Malfoy said. I nearly laughed at his words. How could it be possible that he could read my mind so perfectly?

"And how would you know what he's like? You've only seen him once so far," I pointed out.

"And the one time I did see him he was yelling at his fiancée for helping a man who can't remember a damn thing. He said himself he didn't trust me, probably because of who I was before the accident."

"How does that make him immature?"

"I've lost my memory. It's not as if I even know who you people are, much less how to treat you or how I've treated you in the past. And don't you think that if he's going to marry you, he should be able to trust you to be here with me without assuming the worst?"

"But he does trust me. He wouldn't have left me here if he hadn't," I shot back.

"Sure, he did leave. But only after a fight."

"Just what are you trying to say here?"

"Nothing at all. Just stating what I see." I didn't like the mischievous look in his eyes, almost as if he knew exactly what his comments were doing to my mind. He was messing with me and I didn't like it one bit. I looked over and noticed the omelettes were done.

"This isn't about my relationship with Ron. It's about you regaining your memory."

"I'm aware of that. But maybe you'll learn a little bit about yourself in the process." He took out a knives and forks and handed me one of each. He took a bit of his omelette and then grinned over at me. "Then at least this wouldn't have been a waste of your time."

"And just what I have got to learn from you?" I demanded.

He had the audacity to shrug. "In my opinion, you have a lot to learn about life. You think you know everything and that you're ready to move on to the next step. Confused as to what the next step may be and afraid that with this war looming over your head you just may die tomorrow, you say yes when your boyfriend proposes. You delude yourself into thinking the reason you agreed to marry him is because you both love each other when deep down inside, you know the truth. You're settling." He stopped to take another bite of his meal. "Maybe while I regain my memory, you can learn not to settle."

"Settle? I'm not settling with Ron. I _love_ Ron and he feels the same way about me." I crossed my arms over my chest defensively, prepared to pounce on him if he dared to contradict me.

"I suppose you think you know your situation best." He stood up and placed his empty dish and used utensils in the sink. "Do you suppose I normally did my own dishes?"

I snorted. "I highly doubt that. You were raised in a wizarding family," I explained. "You're probably accustomed to using magic for everything."

"Oh." He seemed disappointed by my answer. "I suppose it's late."

After an eerie pause, I agreed. "Yes, it is rather late."

"And it's been a long day."

"Extremely long," I concurred.

"I don't know if I have a spare room, though I should considering I own a bloody house, for Merlin's sake." Frustrated, he dragged a hand through his hair and looked up at me. "I don't suppose you'd know where my bedroom is?"

I resigned, I finished my meal and led the way upstairs again. "This is my first time here," I began. "In fact, I didn't even realize you owned a house. I thought you'd have your own flat in the city somewhere and never in a million years would I have-" Suddenly, I slipped and fell backwards into Malfoy. He caught me a split second before I hit my head against the railing. "Oof! Thank you. I don't know what happened..." My voice trailed off when I looked down at his hands. He was holding the end of the carpet! The carpet which ran all up the staircase! I stood up and punched him in the arm.

"Ow! What the bloody hell was that for? As pale as I am, I imagine I bruise and discolor easily." He rubbed at his arm as if it stung, but I didn't care. The little git had purposely tripped me for the second time in a single day!

"You rotten little...snake! That's what you are! A snake! That's twice you've tripped me today!" I accused.

"Well, if you'd watch where you are going more often-" I gasped and reacted before thinking things through. I punched him in the face this time. "Bloody hell! Must you hit so hard?" Malfoy kept a hand over his nose and raced up the remaining steps two at a time. He began to randomly open doors again, most probably in search of the bathroom. Once he found it, he turned on the light and examined his nose.

"I don't think it's broken," I offered meekly. He glared at me in the mirror.

"Why did that seem awfully familiar?" He sneered.

"I don't know-"

He reached out and grabbed me by arm. I attempted to free myself, but he was a lot stronger than he looked and wouldn't let off. He backed me up against the sink and each hand clenched the sink just beside my arms, effectively caging me in. "Don't pretend to misunderstand, don't lie to me, and don't ignore me. That felt familiar, as if it happened before, except outside and with a small audience. Am I remembering something or is it just wishful thinking?" When I didn't respond, he gripped my shoulders tightly, so tight I felt slightly pained. "Answer me, damn it!"

"Something similar occurred our third year. I hit you. And I apologize for both hits. I'm not usually a violent person-"

"Save it." He suddenly let go of me, closed his toilet's lid, and sat down. He looked up at me with the saddest, loneliest eyes I have ever seen in the nineteen years of my existence. "I feel lost, confused, and disoriented. And the person who's supposed to help me despises me to the point where she doesn't wish me well."

"No!" I quickly interrupted him. "No, of course I wish you well!"

He shook his head. "You only wish me well so you can return to battle, so you can move on with your life. But you don't personally want me to get better. You'd probably feel better if I took a dip in a lake bubbling with acid. I don't know how I've treated you over the years, but I sincerely apologize for any malice I may have caused you. You saved my life."

"Oh, I didn't-"

"You got me to the hospital with enough time to save me and for that, I am forever in debt. Maybe I didn't deserve for you to save me and maybe I deserved to be punched, both then and now. But I need to get better. And if you don't want to help me, I understand. Just, please, find me someone else. That's all I ask of you. If you're going to leave me, don't leave me alone. I'm sure I had at least one friend. Everyone's got to have at least one friend out there, right? Help me find that person and then you're free."

I fiddled with my fingers, feeling lower than I had ever felt in my life. I had punched a sick person in the face! That wasn't Hermione-like behavior. And though he deserved it for the way he had treated me and my friends over the years, you just don't kick a dog while he's down. I sent Malfoy a small smile. "I'll...look for those bedrooms. Why don't you take a shower? There's a towel there and I'm sure you'll feel much better afterwards." I dashed out of there before he could say anything in response. Damn it, why did I feel so guilty? Maybe if I just got him someone else to help him...

I got lucky and found the bedrooms right away. While Malfoy was in the shower, I apparated to my bedroom at home and packed the bare necessities. I packed very little clothing, but I figured I could come back for that whenever I liked. I showered at home and even changed into my pajamas there, just so I could distance myself from Malfoy and the awkward situation we had found ourselves in. When I apparated back to his house, the shower was no longer running. I had forgotten to brush my teeth at home, so I pulled out my toothbrush and toothpaste and headed for the bathroom. I turned on the tap and had just begun to brush my teeth when Malfoy tapped me on the shoulder. I screamed and flung my toothbrush at him. He rose his arms to protect his face from being hit for a second time and the sudden movement caused his loose towel to fall to the ground. That's when I really began to scream.

"Malfoy! Have some pride, some shame, something! Cover yourself up!"

"If you didn't want to see me naked," he drawled as he slowly picked up his towel and wrapped it around his waist again, "then you should have covered your eyes."

Embarrassed, I blushed a deep red that could have rivaled any Weasley's flushed look. "The towel fell so suddenly...I couldn't-" At his smirk, I relented. "What do you want anyway?" I retrieved my toothbrush from the floor and thoroughly washed it before returning to brushing my teeth.

"That's disgusting."

"What am I supposed to do?" I demanded. "My toothbrush fell on the floor because you scared me to death-"

"You could have used mine," he suggested.

"Now _that's_ disgusting," I retorted.

"Why?"

"It would be like kissing you."

"And that idea disgusts you? Is it the kissing me in particular part or kissing anyone who isn't Ron part which disturbs you?"

"The latter." I sighed and motioned for him to leave. "I need to gargle and spit."

"By all means, go ahead." I laughed, not taking him seriously until he parked himself on the toilet once more.

"I can't-You can't seriously expect me to rinse my mouth with you watching."

"What's that? I don't understand a word you're saying." I glared at him.

"You can't watch," I insisted.

"Why not? Everyone does. Or, at least, everyone _should. _Besides, I don't have anywhere to go. I'm not sure where my room is nor do I have any new clothes..." It was then I became aware of his naked chest. He wasn't particularly muscular like Harry nor was he lanky like Ron. He was actually a perfect mixture of both: shoulders that weren't too broad, a torso that was well-defined yet not overstated, and skin as white as porcelain and as smooth as a baby's bottom. That last thought perturbed me enough to shake me out of whatever crazy spell had befallen me. Sure, he had a nice body, but this was Malfoy. I couldn't let my guard down so easily around him. And as distracting as he may be when he's half-naked-

"Would you quit goggling at me? I feel like a piece of meat," he muttered. I looked up at him and gawked when I realized he was embarrassed. Malfoy, embarrassed to have girls admiring his well-sculpted body?

"I never took you for the modest type. But I guess you really can't judge a book by it's cover. Your room is down the hall, last door on your right. I knew it was your room by the decor. There's clothes in your closet. I didn't touch your belongings," I quickly added. 'I just checked-"

"Thanks. And Hermione?" He paused at the door of the bathroom.

"What? I really do have to rinse."

He grinned at me. "Are you cold? Funny, I didn't feel a chill." He left without clarifying what he meant. I tried to decipher what he meant as I finished up in the bathroom and prepared for bed. I settled down into the foreign bed, eager to rest my eyes and my head. Who knew living with Malfoy could be so tiring? I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting to sleep. It was then, at the moment just before I finally dozed off, that I realized what he had meant.

"That bloody prick was staring at my chest!" I yelled. I could hear Malfoy chuckling from his room across the hall. I stood up and pulled my wand out, retaliation on my mind. But I was too tired to try anything then. "Beside," I muttered as I laid down again. "Revenge tastes all the sweeter when it isn't expected."


	3. Selling the Drama

**I suck, I know. I _should_ keep my promises and update more frequently. I hope you guys can forgive me! Here's chapter 3. I hope you like it!  
**

I awoke the next morning with a plan. I got up at around seven, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and then made a beeline for Malfoy's den. After a quick search of his desk, I retrieved a quill, ink, and paper. I pondered for a moment what to write. It was important I phrased everything in a non-offensive yet urgent tone. If this didn't work, I didn't have any better ideas and I might actually be stuck with Malfoy for an indefinite amount of time. I dipped the quill into the ink and began to form a template. I included all of the necessary details in the template: Malfoy was injured in battle, had lost his memory, and now needed assistance in recovering. I added how any help would be greatly appreciated and that what he truly needed was someone to possibly stay with him throughout the day. I was pleased with my template and made four copies: one for Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise Zabini. They were the only four friends of Malfoy's I knew to still be alive or not currently in Azkaban.

I went outside in search of Draco's owl and was pleased when I found it rather quickly. After feeding it water and some food pellets, I attached one of the letters and watched as it flew off in search of its first stop. Five minutes later, it returned and I attached another letter. The process was repeated twice more and then was finally finished. I didn't know how long it would take to receive their responses as I didn't instruct the owl to wait for any. I went back inside and shrieked when I bumped solidly into a fully dressed Malfoy.

"Good morning to you, too. While you were off sleeping in late and then playing with the owls, I made us breakfast, did the dishes, spoke with Dr. Stevens-"

"Dr. Stevens? When did he stop by? He didn't want to speak with me at all?"

"Dr. Stevens came by at around nine. If I recall correctly, you were feeding the owl at that point and looked so pleased with yourself, I thought it would be best not disturb you. After I spoke with Dr. Stevens, you were still occupied with the owl, so I decided to organize-"

"I wasn't _playing_ with the owl! I was sending messages to some of your friends so they could come help you! And what exactly did Dr. Stevens want? What did he say? What did you tell him I was doing?" I demanded.

Malfoy shrugged. "I told him you were sleeping. As for what he wanted, he only asked me a few questions concerning how I was feeling. He seemed very concerned you would try to pressure me to remember things and that I would grow nauseous. He also gave me some tips-"

"What tips? We'll try some right now." As I try to calm down, I added to myself. Playing with the owls. What rubbish! I was seething by the time we were both seated in his kitchen and couldn't keep my anger to myself a second longer. All of the anger that had brewed the night before had now been ignited and I decided it was time to give him a piece of my mind. "I was _not_ playing with the owls."

"Yes, you've said that already," Malfoy nodded slowly. I was now outraged. How dare he be so condescending! I was trying to help him!

"Look, let's get one thing straight. I'm trying to help you out here. I don't have to do this nor do I even _want_ to do this-" I started.

"So what are you still doing here? Admit it, you feel at least a little obligated or else you would have left the first chance you got."

"Don't interrupt me. I most certainly did not sleep in today. I practically got up at the crack of dawn to contact _your friends_ so that maybe one of them could come and actually help you. _I_ wrote them a letter in your behalf while you were sleeping-"

"You got up at seven this morning, hardly the crack of dawn. And I wasn't asleep when you got up. I actually _did_ get up at the crack of dawn, five-thirty to be exact. And while _you_ were sleeping, _I_ cleaned up the mess you made last night and even had time to go out for a brisk jog before-"

"Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me? I'm not finished-"

"You keep interrupting me. I thought it would only be fair to return the favor." And then he did it. He smirked at me. I can't say why that gesture, above everything else that had already happened, was the one that did me in but at that moment I snapped.

"I did not sign up for this! Here I am, trying to help you, and all I get in return is abuse! I'm not going to see my fiancé for Merlin knows how long because I'm here taking care of you! I should be out there, fighting alongside him and my other friends, but instead I'm here with you. I should be planning my wedding, not exchanging insults with a spoiled prat like you. I won't know how any of this is going to end until Ron walks in here to tell me. And what if he never walks in? He could have died on the battlefield, they all could, and I may never know because I'm here assuming the war is still continuing. I got stuck with you and I'm doing the best I can, given the circumstances, and-"

"You could leave whenever you want," he said quietly. "The door's right where you left it and no one is restraining you from walking right through it. You've stayed here because you wanted to. I'm not sure why you feel obligated, but you do. I will happily relay to you Dr. Stevens suggestions or help you pack so you can move back to your home. The decision is yours."

When he finished, I sighed. "I apologize for my outburst. I'm not prone to them-"

"I'd beg to differ," he muttered. I glared at him, but chose to ignore his comment.

"I'd rather wait until we hear back from the people I contacted today. Once a date has been set of when they can begin to help you, I'll set a date for moving out. For right now, I'd like to try some of things the doctor suggested."

"You're breakfast is probably cold by now, but you should still eat something and it would be a shame to let the crust-less spinach quiche and the Eggs Florentine I made go to waste." Did he say 'I made' as in he cooked it himself?

"You cook?" I asked, not even bothering to hide my surprise.

"My library is full of recipe books, so it would seem so." He placed a plate in front of me and handed me a knife and fork. "I found the eggs a bit salty, but the meal itself is acceptable."

Curious, I braced myself and forked some of the quiche. I took a bite and nearly fainted. "You call _that_ acceptable?" I choked.

"I didn't think it was _that_ bad. Perhaps I am only learning how to cook or have forgotten how. You don't have to finish it, you wouldn't be hurting my feelings." He tried to remove my plate, but I slapped his hand away.

"_That_," I said pointing down at my plate, "is the most delicious quiche I have ever tasted in my life. I was surprised you said acceptable because I think exquisite would have been a more accurate description. If you dare try to remove my plate, I may just stab you with this fork," I warned. He shrugged, but couldn't quite hide the smile in his eyes. He was obviously pleased with the praise he had just received. "Now, those tips Dr. Stevens mentioned."

"Right. He said photographs of places I have been, especially of school, might jog some memory. He said pictures with me in them would be preferable, but not necessary. He also recommended taking me to see significant places, such as where I went to school and where I grew up, could also help. He also mentioned something about significant material possessions, such as a special gift given to me. I'm not sure how we're going to find those, but I figured if we went to school together, you must have some pictures of school somewhere. And unless I was kicked out of school, I see no reason for them not to allow me to return for an hour or so, especially at a doctor's recommendation."

"I have pictures. I could get more from Colin Creevey. He loves to take pictures and he probably has at least a couple with you in them. The people I contacted earlier would probably have tons. Returning to school may be a bit of a problem. The current Headmaster despised you," I explained. "But a written recommendation from Dr. Stevens can hopefully eliminate that problem." I finished my breakfast and got up to clean my dishes. "Did you wash your dishes by hand or were you actually able to recall some sort of charm?"

"Both, actually. I did half by hand and then grew curious and experimented with my wand, which was conveniently in the back pocket of the clothing I was wearing yesterday. I asked Dr. Stevens why I was able to remember some things and not others and he said it was quite normal and that there was no real known explanation. He was surprised I was able to remember so much. Usually, patients hit with Inuria can't remember anything and very few can remember books they have read. He seems to believe I'm on the road to a speedy recovery."

"Well, that's good news. It must be scary to – Did you say you went out jogging? By yourself?" I whirled around from the sink to glare at him.

Puzzled, he nodded. "Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"Yes! Did you tell Dr. Stevens what you did?"

"Yes. Now that I think about it, he seemed just as upset as you were about it. Except he seemed angry with you. He said he would be stopping by tomorrow at a time more convenient to your sleeping pattern to discuss with you the proper way to look after amnesia patients."

I tried to remain calm as I reminded myself I had already yelled at him once today and it wouldn't be conducive to his recovery for me to yell at him again. "Promise me you will never _ever_ go jogging by yourself again until you fully regain your memory."

"I don't see what the big deal is. Since I wasn't sure where I was, I only jogged up a couple of streets and then across one so I could jog back down to the other side of the house. I really only jogged in a circle."

"The big deal," I said slowly, "is that you don't know where you are. What if you got nauseous or developed a headache? You would be by yourself in a strange place with no one to call out to for help. You're not dying on my watch. Wait for your next caregiver to arrive and give them all the heart attacks you'd like, but I cannot have your health and survival plaguing on my conscience."

"I didn't know you cared." After a small pause, he shrugged. "The photos," he prompted.

"Right. I brought some with me though most are still in my room." No longer trusting him to be by himself, I decided he would have to go with me to retrieve them. "We'll take the floo network," I announced. Then I realized I wasn't sure if he was on the floo network. "Never mind. We'll apparate." I took hold of his hand and concentrated on my room.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were hitting on me," I heard him say. And even though I wasn't looking at him, I just knew he was smirking. I never broke my concentration, however, and we were soon in my room. "Is this where you live then? How…quaint."

"Don't touch anything and don't get comfortable. We aren't staying here." I retrieved my photo albums and then held out my hand for his. When he merely stared at it, I rolled my eyes heavenward and sighed in exasperation. "Just take my hand so we can go."

"How romantic. Careful, Granger, your flowery words may make me swoon," he replied dryly. "I wonder what your future husband would say if he knew you were commanding me to hold your hand."

"Ron will never know I held your hand. And for your information, this isn't hand holding. It's a necessity."

"So will he ever know about this 'necessity' then? Surely you have no reason to hide 'necessities' from him." I frowned at his use of air quotes on the word necessity.

"Necessities are necessities and as necessities, they aren't worth mentioning."

"Hmm. Do you want to know what I think?"

"No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me anyway."

"I think you shouldn't be hiding anything from your future husband. Lies aren't a very good foundation for a marriage and make no mistake, withholding information is an underhanded and cowardly way of lying." I didn't care for his words and was prepared to remind him my relationship with Ron was none of his business, but he threw me off balance by placing his hand in mine. "Well? I thought we weren't staying."

Miffed, I sneered at him. "No, we must certainly are not." I concentrated on his kitchen and within seconds, we were back to where we were before. I set my albums down on his kitchen table and retook my seat. He silently took the seat next to mine and waited for me to begin. I decided to show him the pictures in chronological order. I opened the earliest album and cleared my throat. I pointed to the first picture, of the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 3/4. "That's the train we took to school. We would get on at King's Cross railway station in London and disembark at Hogsmeade Station. The Hogwarts Express. Platform 9 3/4." When he said nothing, I gave up and flipped to the next photo. A moment later, I began to regret not checking what pictures were in the album before showing them to him.

"Is that you?" Malfoy said in between chuckles. "Why, your hair is simply out of control!"

"Beauty's only skin deep," I scolded him.

"Yes, but you're hair! And teeth! You look like a beaver that's just been electrocuted! You really should burn that picture."

"I'm glad to see you're still as vain as ever," I said sarcastically. "I'm sure you've looked positively perfect for all of your photographs, being the god that you are and all. Positively flawless."

"I highly doubt that. But I'm serious about burning that picture. Or maybe you should keep it. Yes," he decided. "As evidence of how far you've come." His compliment stunned me. Had he truly not been mocking me? I shook that feeling off before flipping to another photo, this one of Ron, Harry and I. "Now him, I recognize. That would be your Ron, correct? Hasn't changed a wink, has he? Maybe a bit stretched out, but his face is exactly the same."

For some reason, his comment bothered me and made me more defensive than his comments about my picture. "Ron's changed plenty. His face is…thinner. He lost the baby fat."

Draco shrugged. "If you say so."

I decided to change the subject. "That's Harry. Potter. _The _Harry Potter. Your sworn enemy. You hate each other."

"I know what enemy means, Granger. I don't remember him. Guess he wasn't so significant."

"But Gatsby is?" I said incredulously.

"Gatsby serves as a life lesson. Everyone can learn from Gatsby. But what have I learned from hating Harry Potter? What can one learn from hating another?"

Instead of trying to answer his question, I decided to move on. The next picture was of Ginny. "This is Ron's only sister and Harry's girlfriend, Ginny."

"Dating his best friend's sister. That must be…pleasant."

"Ron doesn't mind. Ginny been in love with Harry since she was ten. She took one look at him and was gone. No one was really surprised when they started dating." I showed him pictures for another hour before I finally realized how ineffective showing him pictures of people he despised really was. I closed my album and shook my head. "We'll have to continue some other time. A break would do both of us good right about now."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"Have you ever been drunk before?" I arched a brow at his question.

"What does this have anything to do with-"

"Absolutely nothing. I'm merely trying to make conversation."

"Interesting discussion starter. To answer your question, no, I have never been drunk."

"Why?"

"Why would I? Hangovers don't sound very pleasant and embarrassing myself in front of my friends or strangers for that matter doesn't sound like much fun."

"What makes you think you'll embarrass yourself?"

"Have you ever _seen_ drunk people?"

"Yes. I've been drunk before. I don't believe it's any more embarrassing than those pictures you've kept of yourself of when you were ugly. And how would you know if it's fun unless you've tried it. I bet your boyfriend's been drunk before."

"Ronald Weasley most certainly does not drink. I wouldn't allow it."

"What you allow and what he chooses to do and not tell you about are two very different things-"

"Are you accusing my fiancé of lying to me? I'll have you know, we do not lie to each other-"

"So you agree withholding information is a form of lying?"

What game was he playing at? "Yes-"

"And you claim you don't lie to him yet earlier today when I asked you what Ron would say about you holding my hand, you admitted he would never find out because you didn't plan on telling him. By both our definitions of lying, you are therefore lying to him making your claim of not lying to him in fact false."

By the time he had finished, my head was spinning. "You…tricked me!"

"I did no such thing. I merely made a statement, which you took as a personal attack and decided to make a claim in your defense. Your claim contradicted what you'd said earlier and I merely pointed that out. You seem to have a double standard. It's okay for you to keep some things to yourself, but it is simply unacceptable for him to do the same."

"You're putting words in my mouth! I said no such thing!"

"If what I say is false, why does it bother you so much? I am your childhood enemy, after all. What does it matter what I think?"

"If you know it doesn't matter what you think then why do you insist on voicing your opinions?" I said through clenched teeth.

"Why, I'm just passing the time. You're the one getting defensive over nothing," he replied with an innocent look on his face. The jerk.

"I think you should find another way to pass the time."

"All right. How's this: you could try new things with me."

"What sort of new things?" I knew as the question was leaving my mouth that I should never had said anything to him. His mind had worked in sick and twisted ways before losing his memory and it was just as sick and twisted without his memory. The wolfish grin on his face caused my face to flush and his taunting gaze only made my cheeks burn more.

"We're going to get you drunk, Granger. Piss ass drunk," he added when I started laughing. "What's so funny? What did you think I was going to say?"

"Nothing. Continue."

"Okay…Aside from getting you drunk, you're going club hopping even if I have to drag you from club to club myself. And then you're going to call whatever friends of yours aren't currently fighting and you're going to spend the day with them doing whatever it is women do when they get together."

"Anything else?" I asked with an arched brow. I didn't admit to him that I had no idea what women did together either. I hadn't really spent an entire day alone with my girlfriends outside of the school environment and my closest friends were mostly guys anyway. But he didn't need to know anything of that. No use in giving him ammo for any future attacks. Merlin, this is starting to sound like a war.

"I can't think of anything else at the moment, but I'm sure I can come up with more over time. I'll just make a list." I rolled my eyes. "You don't seem to be taking me seriously at all. I'm not joking, you know. Let's cut a deal. I'll give you something if you agree to do what I have suggested thus far."

I thought this over for a moment. "Okay. Here are my conditions. _If_ no one else comes to take over for me within the next month and _if _ you promise not to mention Ron or my relationship with Ron ever again, it's a deal."

"How about if I just don't mention Ron on the days you do one of the things on my list? That seems fairer."

"Fine. That's our agreement then." We both shook on it. I was so sure I would never have to do any of the things on his list because one of his friends, most probably Pansy, was bound to come help him or he would regain his memory soon that I didn't really think too much of our agreement. I came to regret my carelessness within two weeks.


	4. Semicharmed Life

**In an attempt to make amends, I'm posting all the chapters I had saved on my laptop that I had neglected these past few months. As all way, read, enjoy, review!**

My eyes flung open at the pounding I heard on my door. My first thought was that we were being attacked. I reached for my wand and eyed the clock. It was 5:45 a.m. and Death Eaters have never attacked at such an early hour. And why would they knock before killing me? My second thought was just as morbid as the first: someone had died. I quickly launched myself at my door as images of anyone one of my friends or family members being tortured by Death Eaters flashed in my mind. I unlocked the door to find a very awake, alert, and fully dressed Draco Malfoy frowning down at me.

"Who was it?" I demanded.

"Who was what?"

"Was it Harry? Or Ginny? Ron? My parents?" My voice was down to a whisper now and a sob was caught in the back of my throat, but I refused to shed a tear until a knew exactly who was hurt and what had happened.

"What are you talking about? Who was what?" Malfoy reapeated.

"For the love – Who was killed?"

"Killed? I don't know. You tell me." I glared up at him until I thought I could speak without yelling at him.

"Do you mean to tell me no one was killed or injured overnight?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then why, pray tell, are you banging at my door at this ungodly hour?" I asked as sweetly as a possibly could.

"Because I wish to take a quick jog and you've already told me I can't jog by myself. So I thought-"

"That I would join you? You thought wrong." I slammed the door in his face and turned to get back in bed. I quickly changed my mind and opened the door again. He was standing exactly where I left him. "Do you have any idea how _terrified_ I was? I thought-"

"You assumed," Malfoy corrected me. "And I didn't say anyone died. This misunderstanding is not my fault."

"Why the hell else would someone bang on your door at five in the morning during times of war? Either we're under attack or someone died!"

"I did knock softly, but you didn't respond. I then tried calling your name as I knocked, but that didn't work either. I've actually been knocking for ten minutes. If this were an attack, we'd both be dead by now."

I hated to think he was right and I was still angry with him for making me think a loved one had died. "Look, it's too early in the morning to jog. Just go back to sleep-"

"But I want to jog. And I can't go back to sleep. It seems my body is used to getting up at this time. If you don't want to go with me, I'll go by myself."

"I won't allow it. You're not dying on my watch," I reminded him.

"Then come with me."

"No. No one's going jogging. I'm going back to sleep."

"I'll just keep banging on your door until you agree to come with me. Or leave on my own. Which ever one suits me best," he said with a shrug.

"Fine, fine, fine. But don't make a habit out of this," I warned him. I closed the door and searched for sweatpants and a t-shirt. Ten minutes later, I was nowhere close to feeling awake. We were in front of his house, debating the best route to take. Since neither one of us was familiar with the neighborhood, we decided it would be best to just jog up about five kilometers before crossing the street and jogging back down to his house.

After about one kilometer, my pace slowed down considerably. My legs weren't as long as his, making it harder for me to keep up, and I simply wasn't used to jogging long distances. At two kilometers, I began to gasp for air. Malfoy didn't laugh at me like I expected him to. Instead, he slowed down and even asked if I wanted to turn back. I couldn't get a single word out without choking for air so I just shook my head instead. At three kilometers, he stopped and patted my back. He shoved me onto the sidewalk and sat down next to me until my breathing evened out. As embarrassed as I was, he didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he leaned back on his elbows and examined the houses in front of us as he waited for me to recover.

"I could have jogged further had we not started so early," I lied. I was attempting to save face, of course. It was obvious to both of us I was way out of shape. Malfoy, God bless his soul, chose not to contradict me.

"Of course," he nodded. "You were barely awake when we left. You should have had some coffee first."

"Yes," I agreed. "The air is also a lot, er, cleaner than I am used to. London, you know, with it's polluted air. It's a lot different."

"Hmm. The fresh, clean, suburban air should do wonders for your lungs then. Are you ready to head back? I've grown rather hungry and would like to get started on preparing breakfast as quickly as possible."

"Yes, yes, of course." I nodded like a bobble head, pleased he wasn't giving me any grief for my lack of athleticism.

"We could walk back, if you'd like." My pride got the best of me then and I insisted we jog back. The jog back wasn't nearly as bad. I was actually almost awake for it and didn't really start wheezing until we were a few meters away from his house. I was waiting for Malfoy to say something, but instead he went into his den to retrieve a book before going into the kitchen. "How do chocolate fudge waffles and blueberry pancakes sound?"

"Heavenly." I reached for my wand and said a quick charm to prepare myself coffee. About three cups later, I was awake and ready to start the day.

"You should probably shower," Malfoy suggested. "Breakfast won't be ready for a bit. And it will help to wake you up."

"Good idea." But I was too sore to actually move so I ended up just watching him cook. "I think you used to make yourself breakfast every morning."

"And I guess you're not used to strenuous exercise." I had been waiting for him to say something, but he surprised yet again. Instead of outwardly criticizing me, he merely smirked. "Aren't you an Auror?"

"How did you know that? Are you remembering things?"

"No, Dr. Stevens mentioned it yesterday. Anyway, correct me if I'm wrong about this, but don't Aurors chase after criminals in order to transport them to Azkaban.?"

"That's correct. What are you trying to get at here?"

"That perhaps jogging might be just a tad bit useful for your job. Maybe you should consider jogging with me every morning, to help you get in shape and to clear your mind." He had to be joking.

"Are you mad? Why would I chase after a criminal? They have wands, you know. They could very easily apparate. Aside from that, why would I want to put myself through this torture every morning?"

"Because it's refreshing. And I'll pound on your door every day at five in the morning until you allow me to go out jogging by myself."

"Fine. But you have to cook every day."

"Sounds fair. Has it ever occurred to you that you're a slob? I'm the only one that ever cleans around here. I did the dishes yesterday and the day before. I dusted, swept, mowed the lawn-"

"Has it ever occurred to _you_ that I am a guest in your home, here to do _you_ a favor and it's the least you can do to clean up after yourself?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that you're my caregiver and that I am recovering from serious injuries and that perhaps cleaning up after the _both_ of us isn't really conducive to my recovery?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that you have way too much time on your hands and that's why you choose to do so many random chores around the house and that the reason you have so much time on your hands is because you get up too bloody early in the morning?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that you're awfully cranky in the morning and are now forming barely understandable run-on sentences?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that I don't give a sodding _damn_ what you think and that this 'has it ever occurred to you' game is quite possibly the most childish game I have ever played in my life?"

"But just the other day you were telling me you were ready to get married because you're quite mature for your age. And now you are partaking in childish games. Has it ever occurred to you that you aren't as mature as you'd like to think and that you have plenty of growing up to do before getting married?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that my engagement is none of your business and that-" I caught myself. "I'm done playing this game. And I'm through discussing my relationship with Ron. You'll never understand it anyway."

"If you say so. Did anyone respond your correspondences from yesterday?"

"No," I lied. "No response. Hopefully I'll receive something today or tomorrow. You know, before your jogging sessions kill me."

"Syrup?"

I shrugged. "I'm starving. I'll eat anything at this point."

"Syrup then. A little sugar ought to do you some good."

"Chocolate has sugar. Considerable amounts, if I recall correctly."

"Just eat it." He placed a plate of waffles and a plate of pancakes down in front of me. He then brought over two empty plates and syrup, followed by glasses of orange juice. "And now we eat."

"More like feast," I said after my first bite. He truly was a whiz in the kitchen.

"So what tip do we try today? More pictures? Maybe a trip to the old school?"

"I've yet to speak to the current Headmaster so that's out for now. We could try more photos and then maybe take a tour of the neighborhood. That's really all I have the strength for right now. I could also possibly answer some questions you may have. About school life perhaps."

"Who's Victor Krum?" His question startled me.

"Victor Krum? How do you know Victor Krum? What does he have to do with any of this?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Where did you hear his name anyway?" He hesitated before pulling out a piece of parchment.

"Another black owl delivered it just this morning. Before we went on our jog," he explained. I opened the parchment, eyes wide at the familiar sloppily rushed cursive.

"'Dear Draco,'" I read aloud. I paused at the use of Malfoy's given name. Were they close friends then? "'It pleases me to hear that the meeting went well and that we got exactly what we wanted. We're finally going to be official partners! Thank you for covering for me and all though I know you will most certainly object, I _will_ repay you some day. Thanks to you, my family and I will finally get to go on the vacation we deserve while still being protected from You-Know-Who. As much as it pains me to say, I will be out of touch for the remainder of this horrible war, but when I return we will have a lengthy dinner to discuss our partnership and business as usual. Don't break too many hearts in my absence and tell Catherine I said hello. Best wishes to you and yours, Victor.'" The letter left me thoroughly confused. "It would seem you and Victor recently became business partners but then he and his family had to go into hiding."

"I gathered as much. What I want to know is who this Victor Krum is and what he does for a living. Chances are, if he owns some sort of company, I probably bought in so he could avoid some sort of hostile takeover."

"No. Krum played Quidditch. Plays. Professionally. You used to play. At school. As did Harry. Could Krum have partially owned his team? And then you bought in…"

"Do you know this Krum? You blushed the instant his name was mentioned. I'm just curious."

"Yes. He was my boyfriend before Ron."

"And the plot thickens. When was this? How long did it last before Ron stole you from him? Was there any cheating involved?"

"Who knew you were such a gossip hound? It was a long time ago and we broke up before Ron and I started dating. My question is how do _you_ know Krum."

"How did you meet him? I probably met him through Quidditch. I mean what do I do for a living anyway? I could be a Quidditch player."

"That's a good question. A search through your desk in the den may answer it for you. I'd like to know who this Catherine is. Girlfriend perhaps?" If he had a girlfriend, I had another possible person to dump him on.

"I haven't the slightest clue. To be honest, I'd rather hear about you and Krum. Has it ever occurred to you-"

"No! Not that again. Stop and rephrase whatever it is you are going to say."

"Do you happen to have any pictures of Victor? It might help me to remember."

"As a matter of fact…" I pulled out my album of the Yule ball and flipped towards the back. "That's us at the Yule Ball our fourth year. Krum was my date. He actually didn't go to school with us-"

"That's you? Wow, that looks nothing like that first disastrous picture you showed me. You actually could pass for beautiful. If only you would take the time to fix yourself up every day…"

"For what? You?" I snorted. "That's a funny joke."

"If you prefer to look like a mother of twelve that hasn't slept a wink in twenty years and has probably not looked in a mirror in the past decade-"

"I wouldn't look so awful if a certain someone didn't insist on waking me up at the crack of dawn to go jogging, of all things."

"Let me remind you, today was the first time I woke you up earlier than you expected. And waking up early to jog wouldn't be a problem if a certain someone else didn't insist on sleeping for over twelve hours a day in order to recover from Merlin knows what when I'm the one that was recently injured."

"Excuse me for being exhausted after a long day of withstanding your abuse and trying to help you regain your memory. I wouldn't need so much sleep if a certain someone didn't insist on – You're playing that game again, aren't you?"

"What game?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Draco Malfoy. I'm onto your little games and plans to drive me mad."

"I honestly haven't the slightest clue what you are talking about. I'm merely pointing out that it should be me who is exhausted at the end of the day because I'm the only one who actually _does_ anything around here. I'm not sure why someone who just sits around all day would require so many hours to rest-"

"My body can't function on three hours of sleep like yours can. I'm the normal one here, not you. As for cleaning, it's your house. Besides, you took it upon yourself from day one to clean. Maybe it's a routine. Far be it for me to interfere with activities that could help you recover your memory. And let me remind you once more, I'm doing you a favor here. I don't have to stay here. I can leave whenever I want and you'd be alone and defenseless against any Death Eaters."

"I've yet to understand why you keep threatening me with leaving when it's blatantly obvious you aren't going to. I'd love to hear why you feel so obligated to me, but I believe you're still not ready to admit the reason even to yourself." I stood up then and marched upstairs. "Where are you going?" Malfoy called after me.

"I'm going to play detective for a bit and find out where I can contact Victor Krum or this mysterious Catherine. Oh, and sit around all day, of course. In fact, I think I'll take a nap in between my training sessions. Good luck getting your memory back, you're on your own today with that task." The little git, I added silently. I went into his guest bedroom and pulled out a small address book. There was a small chance Krum still had the same address. If he did, I could easily ask his neighbors when they'd last seen him and if any of them knew how he could be reached. And maybe, if luck is on my side, I could track down this mysterious Catherine.

An hour later, I had just about given up. "Who am I kidding? Catherine is a common name and it's all I have to go by. If I only had a last name…"

"Try Bennet-Price," Malfoy suggested. My back immediately stiffened at the sound of his voice.

"How did you get in here?" I hissed.

"I sort of live here. And your door was open. If you wanted privacy, you should have closed it. Bennet-Price," he repeated.

"I could have sworn I closed the door…"

"You know, the reason I'm not allowed to jog by myself is because you're afraid I'll become nauseous, collapse, and die while by myself. Going by that logic, leaving me by myself in the kitchen while you're upstairs going 'woe is me' doesn't exactly sound very safe either."

"That's different," I scoffed. "If we're in the same house, I'll eventually check on you. And I know where to look in order to check on you. But if you're outside, I have no idea where you are."

"You would if I told you where I jogged. What if I took the same route we took today every day? That way-"

"I'll have to talk to Dr. Stevens first. If he gives the okay, then I won't stop you. I still don't think – Did you say Bennet-Price? You remember this Catherine? Are you remembering things?" I grew so excited, I got up and actually hugged him. "Yes! Yes! There's hope of me leaving soon! And of you having a speedy recovery," I quickly added.

"So sorry to burst your bubble, but I didn't remember anything. I'm just a better detective than you."

"What are you talking about?"

Malfoy pulled a few newspaper clippings from his pocket. "I found these in my desk. Apparently I've escorted one Catherine Bennet-Price to a few charity balls and Ministry of Magic functions. Will you please let go of me already? As much as I _love_ being held in your arms, people may start to get the wrong idea." It was then I realized I was still hugging him. Appalled, I jumped back about a foot and shivered in disgust.

"Give me that." I tried to snatch the clippings from him, but he quickly raised his arms so that they were now well above my head and therefore out of my reach.

"Say please."

"I don't have time-"

"Say please," he repeated. I knew there was no harm in appeasing him, but my pride got the best of me and so I jumped, attempting to add height to my reach. What a horrible idea that proved to be. I ended up falling forward, onto Malfoy, causing him to lose his balance and for us both to crash onto the floor.

"Now look what you've done. Give me those," I tried to wrestle the clippings away from him, but he wouldn't let them up. We ended up rolling on the floor for a few minutes, grunting as we fought for control. I somehow managed to finally get on top and even considered biting him just so he could let go.

"Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" He chided.

"Didn't _your_ mother teach you not to fight with girls?" I growled when I realized I had fallen for it again. "Why do I always fall for your childish games?"

"Because, like Peter Pan, you're not ready to grow up. And I believe my mother taught me not to hit girls. Fighting doesn't have to be physical."

I stopped moving suddenly. "You call this non-physical fighting? I'm like sitting on top of you-"

"Interesting position indeed. Though I can think of better ones," he smirked. Why that little…Get a hold of yourself, Hermione. One self-absorbed vampire-like blonde was not worth making a fool of myself over.

"Please hand over the clippings so I can get off of you."

"No problem." He handed me the clippings and the instant they were in my hand, I jumped off of him. There were four clippings total, three of which included pictures of the two. I was instantly drawn to Malfoy who, as much as I hated to admit, looked quite dashing in a muggle tuxedo. The dark color of his clothing contrasted very well with his pale skin and so-blonde-it's-almost-white hair. He didn't look as cold and distant as he usually did nor was he smirking either. He was actually smiling and appeared to be rather happy. When I finally shifted my gaze to the woman on his arm, I could see why.

She was obviously beautiful: long raven colored hair down to about her waist with eyes as stormy and passionate as Malfoy's were impassive. She was tall, nearly a full head taller than me, and thin like a model. Her eyes, almond shaped and squinting in every picture, were the epitome of bedroom eyes. You know, the come hither look women always seem to give men in movies right before a steamy love scene. And, of course, her lips were full and curved into a perfect pout. She was beautiful enough to bring a grown man to his knees and the sad part was she probably knew it. I had always been jealous of women like her. They held so much power… It was then the significance of her name hit me. "She's the Minister's daughter."

"I beg your pardon? You were mumbling to yourself. Babbling, really, about how beautiful she and I are. Any time you'd like to continue, especially the part concerning how dashing I look in a tuxedo-"

Embarrassed I'd spoken aloud, I shushed him. "She's the Minister's daughter," I repeated. "The Minister of Magic, Richard Price. He has two children, a boy and a girl. No one knows much about the boy, but the girl's something of a socialite in London. Could you two have been…dating?"

"You sound so horrified. Afraid of me being taken?" He wiggled his brows and smirked at me. How full of manure can one person possibly be?

"No, I'm wondering what a girl of such impeccable breeding and prestige could possibly see in a selfish, overbearing, pompous, arrogant, _ass_ such as yourself," I spat.

"You do realize with the exception of ass, the words you used to describe me are all synonymous? And who knows, maybe she likes asses."

"I just don't understand how the two of you could have possibly met."

"You'll have to contact her to find out. Better get to writing," Malfoy suggested.

"Be serious," I snorted. "I can't just send a message to the Minister's daughter. First of all, she's the _Minister's_ _daughter_. I have no idea where she lives nor would her address be listed anywhere for safety reasons. Second of all, her mother is a muggle. With this war going on, her father probably has forced her to go into hiding. And maybe Krum thought you two were hiding together, since you aren't currently in You-Know-Who's good graces. Maybe you two are dating. Why else would Krum assume you'd be able to relay any greeting to her? But then why would he send the letter here? That would mean he was under the impression she was hiding somewhere within this house with you. Which she's not. Right?"

"Do you always mutter to yourself?" Malfoy smirked at my sigh. "Here's a thought: maybe 'say hello to Catherine for me' is code for something. Like maybe Catherine is safely hiding somewhere until this all blows over and Krum may or may not know where she is, but knows she is safe?" I hated to admit he had a point.

"That's a possibility," I nodded slowly. "Regardless of whether or not she's hiding, we won't be able to find her any time soon. In the meantime…Do you mind if I browse your library for a bit?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Don't see why not. Mind telling me what you're looking for?"

"Oh, a book or two. To keep me company as I sit around and be useless all day." He acknowledged my comment with a smirk.

"Admit it. You know I'm right." He stood aside to let me exit the room. I stopped in front of him and arched a brow.

"It will be a frigid day in heaven and hell before I admit you know more than me. A frigid day," I repeated. I suddenly realized we were standing much too close to one another. We were so close, if we were the same height, I'm positive our noses would have been touching. But Malfoy was more than a head taller than me, so I had to tilt my head up in order to look up at him. His gaze made me uncomfortable. His eyes were piercing, as if he were examining every single thought that was crossing my mind. My eyes quickly dropped down to his chin, which made me feel like a coward. Since when have I ever been afraid of _Malfoy_? Why, he was nothing but a schoolyard bully! I stubbornly lifted my gaze before speaking to him once more. "If you'll excuse me." I brushed by him and ignored the tingling feeling I felt in the pit of my stomach, mainly because I didn't know how to interpret it. Was I honestly afraid of Malfoy?

I had barely taken five steps from the door when Malfoy reached out and grabbed my wrist. "Lunch will be served at one on the dot." I nodded before snatching my hand away.

I spent the next two hours reading through all of Malfoy's books on potions and Dark Magic. My goal was to become more knowledgeable on Malfoy's condition in hopes of coming up with better strategies to jog his memory. I even researched tips on easing muggle amnesia and was actually surprised to find how extensive Malfoy's book collection was. He actually had books concerning muggle diseases! I immediately began to wonder exactly what he did for a living. Why would a room that essentially served as his home office require him to have dozens of books pertaining to muggle illnesses? My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," I responded absentmindedly.

"I find it hilarious you're granting me permission to enter my office in my own home. Lunch is ready," Malfoy added.

"Didn't I ask you not to bother me?" I asked impatiently. "You're disturbing my concentration."

"Disturbing your concentration from what exactly? You're obviously _not _doing the job you're here to do, which is to help me regain my memory, in case you have forgotten. And you're obviously not helping me to clean up around here. All you're doing is reading-"

"I'm reading up on your condition, for your information. It would be easier for me to understand how to help you if I understand exactly what was done to you. But obviously learning about what's wrong with you isn't an immediate concern. Nor is it actually considered to be important work. So sorry to want to speed this process up for the both of us." Malfoy remained silent for a moment, as if contemplating what I had just said. I was glad he was finally realizing my worth. It was about time he –

"Dr. Stevens is here. Just thought you'd like to know."

I blinked several times. "Surely you are jesting?"

"Believe what you'd like. I'll just tell the good doctor you're sleeping on the job. Again." By the grin on his face, I could tell Malfoy would take great pleasure in doing so. I sighed as I stood up.

"Lead the way." I followed him into the sitting room, fully expecting no one to be there. He probably just wanted me to run in a panic so he can laugh at me once he got there. I nearly swore when I spotted the doctor. "Dr. Stevens. You're actually here." Malfoy smirked smugly then, as if he were trying to say 'I told you so'.

"And where else would I be, Ms. Granger? I did stop by yesterday and since you were sleeping, left you a message with Mr. Malfoy." Dr. Stevens sounded far from pleased. I glared at Malfoy. It was his fault Dr. Stevens was angry with me. First he didn't wake me up so I missed the first visit, forcing the doctor to have to waste another morning to check in with me. Then Malfoy takes his dear sweet time in retrieving me for the second visit. There was one thing I just knew would get me back in Dr, Stevens' good graces. After all, I needed the man on my side if I stood any chance of getting out of here quickly. Er, getting Malfoy to recover quickly, though I suppose the two are one in the same.

"I haven't been just sleeping my days away, Dr. Stevens. I've been reading up on Malfoy's condition. I now know Inuria is a complex potion to because its ingredients are so difficult to find. In fact, the Ministry originally created the potion in order to-"

"Give to criminals in Azkaban," Malfoy finished. "With their memories wiped, the Ministry hoped to release the prisoners to decrease over all crowding in Azkaban while also creating reformed witches and wizards. This idea did of course fail to be passed by the Minister of Magic due to objections from prisoners' families and friends who did not want to be forgotten by their loved ones. There were various other arguments for why using Inuria on prisoners was a horrible idea, but historically speaking, that is the most important reason it has been outlawed and is in modern times considered to be one of the Unforgivables. Does that about sum up your history lesson?"

I gawked at Malfoy for half a minute before responding. "Did you – Was that something you remembered? I read it in your books just today. Isn't this amazing, Dr. Stevens? He's remembering!" I jumped and clapped my hands, elated things were finally moving along. The stern look on Dr. Stevens' face had me turning to eye Malfoy wearily. He rolled his eyes heavenward and shook his head.

"If you're done Ms. Granger, I can explain to you why your celebration is premature," Dr. Stevens began. "You see, I actually told Mr. Malfoy all of this yesterday. He probably knows more about his condition than you do. Might I suggest, Ms. Granger, that you start taking your job more seriously? To put this into perspective…This man's _life_ is essentially in your hands. He cannot remember any details about who he is or who he used to be. This is not a joke and if you're going to take it as such, then I suggest you walk out of here right now and quit wasting all of our time. Now, here is the way things are going to work from now on. I will be coming in once a week to check on Mr. Malfoy. I need you to be here because, as you may or may not know, some of the side effects of Inuria can be lethal if left untreated. Should you have any questions about his condition, ask Mr. Malfoy first. He's pretty knowledgeable on potions in general and his condition in particular, now that I've given him every book I own on the subject. If he becomes ill or cannot answer a concern, notify me immediately. If you'll excuse me, I have other house calls to make."

As Malfoy saw Dr. Stevens out, I sat down on the arm of the nearest couch. How could it be that I was two steps behind? "I've gone my whole life being ten steps ahead of everyone else. How can I be so far behind this time?"

"Because you're still trying to find the quickest way out of here rather than actually helping me," Malfoy said.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I got better things to do with my time than help a spoiled, selfish prat like you," I muttered.

"Then why do you stay? Dr. Stevens even said you should leave if you're not going to help. And I'm sure as hell not forcing you to stay. What's holding you back?"

My moral code. Everything I stand for. The fact that he's actually proven himself to be quite useful when he's not being a stupid prick. "Who knows?" I decided to use as my response. "Look, I just don't think it's safe for you to stay here by yourself. They're after you and once they realize you're not dead-"

"But I am dead. At least, as far as they know."

"What are you talking about?"

"Looks like someone needs to hit those books a little harder. And start being more honest about how they feel. Especially about the big M word."

"Do you know what I predict? I predict you will never get married. I predict you will never find someone insane enough to want to be legally bound to you, even with the possibility of divorce. Because you're the type of guy who would flip the channel five minutes before a television program is over. You're the type of guy who would lie obviously about trivial things such as the weather. You're the type of guy who would never break eye contact with someone. And to what purpose? To annoy them, to unnerve even. Even now, you call into question my feelings for Ron, a person you don't even remember, so you can rile me up. Well, it's not working!"

"And so that little outburst was just…"

"This is exactly why I didn't want to help you. Only a man in diapers can be changed."

"Ah, so tightly wound up Granger cracks a joke. I believe you're warming up to me. Too bad the same can't be said for your lunch. It's been sitting on the kitchen counter for well over an hour. And by the way…did you ever get around to showering after our jog?" I thought a minute before shaking my head. "That's what I thought. The smell kind of gives you away." Why that little…I would have chased after him to return his abuse, but an owl at the window caught my attention just as I stood up. I retrieved the owl's message and eagerly tore its seal when I realized who it was from. By the time I had finished reading it, I was down on my knees with my hands trembling with anger. This one letter, you say, came to change the course of the rest of my life. I didn't realize it then, but I was in for one long and bumpy ride.


End file.
